


The Cursed

by solarift



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Demon King Harry, F/M, Fanart - Manips, Gen, Immortal Pirate Queen Roxy, Incubus Eggsy, M/M, Necromancer Merlin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarift/pseuds/solarift
Summary: "I was immersed in darkness, so darkness I became."Four stories of four different people that were cursed by darkness one way or another- the Undead Immortal; the Necromancer; the Demon King; and the Incubus- all four beings separated by nothing more than time. Though cursed as they are, it seems time is all they really have left. As such, Fate has played her hand and their stories will come to intercede.





	1. The Immortal Pirate Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Roxy's story.

 

_"Immortality is a terrible curse."_

* * *

 

She was only a child when she’d been abducted from her home in the dark of the night. And at that time she feared nothing more than death as she was forced to watch the scourge of the earth slaughter her family in front of her. She’d begged the pirates for her life back then, and in her mindless gratitude knew nothing of the horrors that already began to lurk in her future aboard the pirate vessel known as The Immortal.

It’s a dark night, years later, and the Sea- well, _She_ is rougher than usual for the season. She swats the vessel this way and that, temperamental enough in her ire that even the weatherworn crew remain stowed away in their cabins, fearful of the great ocean’s wrath, docked even as they are.

Roxanne is the only one bold enough that dares step off the ship, sent by the captain to fetch supplies. While she loathes every time the vile man orders her about, it’s only when the Immortal is docked that she fights less against such commands. Because these are the only times she feels truly free of her servitude.

It’s only when she’s given the leeway to poke around at port, when she’s told to gather supplies to bring back to the ship, that she allows herself to fall into thoughts so secret she only ever dare think upon them when her feet are upon the ground.

Oh, she could have run, she supposed, sought sanctuary somewhere within whatever town they might’ve been visiting at the time. She had, the first few times they’d allowed her to stretch her legs upon the muddy earth at port.

But they’d found her. Dragged her back, laughed as she cried and pleaded to be let go. And it’d all begun again, the monotonous dreg that her world had become.

The captain- she would never call him by the name he still urged her to – was too fond of the pet he stole away that Godforsaken night so long ago, to ever let her be free of his grasp for long. And while many of his crew thought she should be whipped for her insolence, the captain merely laughed off their worries, making it clear to them that any punishment would be by his hand only.

He held true to that, too.

Roxy remembered when, once, she’d just turned seventeen and left the boat without permission, seeking only provisions unavailable on the ship for her monthly cycle. She’d nearly made it back, supplies in hand, when the first mate had spotted her, cursed her for her audacity before dragging her the rest of the way by her hair.

He’d cuffed her a good few times, enough to leave a mess of bruising on her face that would last a week, and one good whack from the first decorated in stolen jewelry, leaving a series of cuts as well across the right side of her face.

And as the first mate- egged on by the rest of the crew present- raised his blade to distribute his own version of righteousness, he screamed in pain before crumpling backward. His sword arm, and the sword itself, fell to the deck, blood pooling about the severed appendage.

The captain stood before his first mate suddenly, muttering madly beneath his breath before barking orders out to the men around him. A couple started forward, jerking Roxy up to her feet and then into the direction of the captain’s quarters. She’d looked back at the first mate, cowering as he was before the captain, though that would be the last glimpse Roxy would ever have of the first mate, for he was missing from roll call the next morning as they set sail.

She was nineteen when the Immortal docked at a town the captain nor any of the crew had ever heard of or been to before, called _Bryn Myrddin_. Despite the cool weather the town seemed befallen with a thick, foreboding fog. They’d been docked for hours when the sun began to set, yet Roxy had seen no more than a handful of people wander by for a town whose sign boasted hundreds.

It was here that she would soon come to meet a man that would not only free her from her servitude under the captain of the Immortal but would also enslave her with chains far more devastating than she could ever imagine.

But a deal with a devil had been made, and with her rebirth as one of the undead Roxy would wrought upon the Immortal’s crew a swift but no less violent retribution that they were long past due.

It’d be some centuries later when she’d realize that the necromancer that had granted her vengeance upon her captors held not only her death in his hands but also her heart.

**The end.**

* * *

 

 **The Immortal Pirate Queen Roxanne** (Roxy's Theme) - "[Norwegian Pirate](https://youtu.be/tvriqdS3vsc)" from the _Archangel_ album by Two Steps From Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [elletromil](http://elletromil.tumblr.com) for stoking the fires of my imagination even further with your amazing-as-always tags and support, without which I would never have written this extra stuff for the manips I'd done!


	2. The Leviathan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Harry's story.

 

_"We all have demons; I just choose to feed mine."_

* * *

It wasn’t often that he felt wistful, but wistful is where he found himself as he surveyed the darkening land before him, the hellhound nudging the back of his thigh as it panted hungrily.

He rumbled from deep within his chest in warning.

The beast whimpered, chomping its teeth together in agitation but behaving all the same as it looked up at its master huffing eagerly.

But its master remained idle however, closing his eyes as he inhaled deeply, pulling in a nose full of air.

There it was.

That scent... It stroked against the outskirts of familiarity, but only just enough to tease and frustrate, as it called out to him. But while it seemed familiar it was indeed completely foreign to him; he had never encountered the being this scent belonged to before.

A condemned demon if all indicators were to be considered, one he’d yet to come across in all his millennia upon Earth.

He reached out with his senses, using his power to start up the bit of havoc he’d originally come to wrought upon this poor unsuspecting village. But, needs must, and if he couldn’t lure the interesting thing he’d scented out of the town it was currently hiding within he’d have to force its hand.

So with nothing more than an eyebrow he released an admittedly insignificant amount of his Chaos. But even with that tear drop of undulated power the town erupted in red and smoke, just as the screams of the villagers began to tear across the night sky.

He sighed, eyes still closed as he waited patiently to be sought out. For now he would wait.

For _now_ he would remember.

He fell as easily and deeply into memory as the last human he’d drowned, blackness encroaching from the outside in, breath stolen.

* * *

To a human, Heaven and Hell were simultaneously made up of either Angels or Demons, their minute intelligence allowing them no profounder thought than that of their own fate. Their depiction of Heaven was something along the vague lines of a vast paradise obtained _only_ by those that were in possession of a pure spirit; most mortals believed they were either born with the capacity for good or they weren’t.

Of course, as he’d found throughout his eons upon earth, _that_ limited view was exactly all one could expect from such a primitive species such as humans.

Perhaps, he thought idly, their restricted perception merely had to do with how young they were; it would at least explain why the Almighty One kept their lifespans so short, yet nurtured their evolution as a whole rather than favoring one single entity. After all, humans seemed to come into existence with no understanding yet all the while demanding, before going on to live their in-between life thinking they knew everything and then slowing down to expire the same way they began, if with a little more effort to crumble and die. So foolish, this young race of the Almighty’s.

However, to those of amaranthine creation such limitations did not hinder their perspective of just who was who, nor why they were where they were.

Heaven’s angels, for example: some were most assuredly not as pristine or accommodating as the Divine. The Divine being those in the angelic hierarchy created for the sole purpose of being in and maintaining Heaven and God’s word.

He wouldn’t go as far as to say that all of the lower levels of Divine remained ever optimistic of God’s goodwill, but the highest tiers, the ones closest to the Almighty were, and with that snooty beyond even the most purebred of humanity. Though that was always the way of it, wasn’t it? Faith in anything, after all, can’t be tested if one continues to turn a blind eye upon everything outside of its comfort zone now can it.

Perhaps that was an immortals folly, being directly made by God, seeing his pet project evolve and grow from one collision of his will and witnessing its trepid growth since the beginning… thinking humans inane and foolish for not knowing what it meant to be given mortality by their Maker. But how could they know? Their lives too short and their brains only evolved so much, they still had yet to fully accept or discover their purpose, of why they were there.

But whether Divine in nature or nurture, even they could skulk around with questionable intent, engaging in even more questionable activities that were far more acquainted with demons or those ensconced beneath the world in the Pit.

The Damned dwelled beneath the belly of the world in Hell, these souls were most certainly there for a reason. After all, there were none sentenced to the Pit that had the capacity to be anything other than what they were- corruptible, perishable and monstrous.

When a soul descended into the Pit, they stayed there forever, forced to reach out for their redemption while their handlers kept it _just_ out of reach of their straining fingers; all before that vicious cycle would begin anew. These souls for all intents and purposes would always serve as God’s example of punishment. At least where His more perishable souls were concerned.

That’s right; Hell was reserved solely for those of the human race.

But then, one might inquire further: if Hell was made for mortals, where do those of angelic nature go to be punished?

Where a human that defiled God’s order would suffer for all eternity in Hell, a Divine that committed celestial treason _fell_. But to “fall” in Heaven meant something else entirely for an immortal.

To _fall_ was to be stripped of one’s Grace, before adding insult to injury by being given a one-way ticket to the human realm for their unredeemable crimes where they’d be reborn, cursed to become things that went bump in the night, the kind of monsters that humans told stories of; if mortal man could imagine it, it was real.

But it wasn’t being a monster that sent fear rippling through the Divine, it was the simple fact that they would become… weak, human; limited by time and destined, despite their granted longevity as an abomination upon earth, to one day expire.

The Fallen weren’t just those of a more Divine nature, they could also be human. And wasn’t that just a terrible twist of fate for his loyal believers below. He was unsure of what was crueler of the Almighty; damning his pets to an eternity of suffering in Hell or allowing them to ascend to Heaven, get a taste before throwing them back to the mortal plane to become a creature of nightmares.

Cursed a vampire, sustaining the length of their mortality by feeding off the blood of living things, and all because they were greedy in life, uncaring of the blood spilt to get what they wanted, often by means other than their own deceiving hands.

Cursed a wendigo, their meager life sustained only by feasting on the flesh of humans while also obtaining  every ounce of pain and happiness their victims had experienced, and all because in life these Fallen abused their bodies or took pleasure in killing their own kind for sport, for pleasure, for hatred.

Yes, the Fallen truly had it the worst in his opinion. After all, they didn’t merely lose their innocence when pseudo-forgiven before being tossed back to Earth, they were then cursed to also need to relive their sins by craving everyone else’s purity, one way or another.

And then there were the scant few beings such as he; only one walked among the mortal plane with eternal life, that, for all intents and purposes, led the Army of the Fallen.

_He_ was the Leviathan, the one chosen by both God and the Devil to rule over the Condemned that were punished to a mortal life on the astral plane of mortals. He was neither from Heaven nor Hell.  He was neither good nor evil either. He merely did as he saw fit, so long as his actions maintain the balance and order Earth was allowed by their great Creator. He often does not overly concern himself with the matters that face those under his duty. They are, after all, here to be punished and not coddled or favored.

However, every so often something would pop into existence that piqued his curiosity.

So it’d come as quite the surprise as he contemplated laying waste to the small island town, the inhabitant’s raw screams humming dully in his ears when he noticed a figure beyond the darkness skitter, unaffected- or at least putting up a good ruse- by the sheer power of his Chaos.

_Incubi._

* * *

Harry flashed back to the present, a pleasing sigh escaping his throat as his eyes bled from trance white to demon onyx. The beast at his side shook with a violent tremor, mouth frothing dirty red puss.

“Easy there, boy,” his voice uttered lowly, distracted as he watched his Chaos unfurl upon the village below from where he stood.

The fiend at his side cocked its eyeless head in the direction of the scent of death, ears perking at the sounds of the townspeople’s terror. Smell, sound and taste, those were the only senses a hound birthed from the bowels of Hell would ever need.

The creature huffed defiantly between its rotting teeth, its rancid breath hissing out every other pant as its acidic drool wilted the growth beneath. The hellhound’s behemothian girth shifted as it nearly vibrated with indignation at not being set free from its master’s side; it was anxious to gather up the confused souls that were already beginning to litter the town. Its sole duty was to devour entities unworthy of ascending to Heaven again and again, it’s appetite never quite satiated.

Nothing short of cruel amusement lit across its master’s face. “Now, now. You don’t want to go and spoil all my fun, do you?" he cajoled, petting almost fondly behind one of its veiny, translucent ears. The creature whimpered, heeling obediently at its master’s side. “You’ll be fed soon, Pekel, for now though-”

A burst of power seared its way through his awareness suddenly, the taste of it like coal on his tongue despite the powdery color it oft held on the rare occasion he ran into _them_ down here.

His eyes shot to the power’s source.

His eyes flared, burning away with rage as his skin began molting off his face leaving only singed bone and fathomless eye sockets in its place.

So not only did this nameless archangel step foot upon his domain, but it was also going to after his prize?

He hissed, irritated, “ _Immobilize that impudent pigeon, Pekel! Fetch!_ ” before he flew forward at a speed neither incubi nor interloper could comprehend.

He arrived between the two in a blur just after the archangel’s holy scythe nicked the incubi’s ankle, sending it’s vessel to the ground in anguish. He raised his palm and, for all intents and purposes, tapped the angel on the chest with little effort, sending Heaven’s guardian hurtling backward and blasting through dwelling after dwelling.

He remained vigilant in front of the incubi, facing still, toward the angel’s building ire as a wail that surely shattered any living thing’s eardrums sounded kilometers away.

Pekel materialized before him, archangel dangling from the beast’s jaws as said archangel susurrated as best it could. But really, the guardian’s fight was for naught as a hellhound’s jaws were the strongest vice known to creation; such creatures were created by the Almighty to immobilize those of Divine nature with the toxins in its saliva after all.

“Release,” he said curtly.

Pekel whimpered, its vicious excitement waning into agitation. It let go regardless.

He spared an amused brow at the hound before throwing his chin in the direction of the village. “Go on then, satiate your belly.” Pekel growled before turning and fading into the darkness.

The scythe appeared before his face just before its bearer did, as the archangel finally regained its motor functions. Eyes narrowed at the Divine’s audacity, he caught the deadly blade with the back of his fingers easily before snapped them together, the scythe all but cracking and disintegrating into moonlit dust.

“How dare you! Filthy Fallen!” the angel hissed preparing once again to attack.

He had had enough of this.

“IT IS FORBIDDEN TO ENTER MY REALM!” his voice boomed across the open space, startling not only the angel but the incubi as well, sending a resonating roar across the land.

“Le- Leviathan, I-” the archangel- Gabriel, he now realized- dropped to a knee before him. “My apologies, Leviathan, I knew not who it was when I attacked. Please, Great One, forgive my hastiness.”

The Leviathan stared at him with his depthless sockets, lip curled. “That is all?”

Gabriel looked up, eyes widening as the Leviathan’s features began rebuild and regrow at a highly accelerated rate. “I’m... unsure what you mean, Great One.”

The Leviathan finished his body’s regrowth and sighed, put upon. “Not only do you set foot on a plane of existence you are forbidden to, you also have the audacity of chasing after and injuring my prize. Tell me, Gabriel, what should I do to punish this travesty you’ve found yourself amidst? By all rights and celestial law I can have my hound drag you to Hell, let the Unmaker deal with your treachery. Though I could also have Pekel return you to Heaven; I’m sure the Silver City’s gatekeepers would find your means of arrival entertaining if not exceptionally suspicious.”

“G-Great One, I-” Gabriel floundered. The guardian’s reserve returned as he stood, walking closer, eyes half-lidded. “Harry... You know better than anyone I can make it up to you in another way altogether. A way that would be mutually beneficial to both of us.”

The Leviathan- Harry- snorted. “Unfortunately I’ve lost any appetite I might’ve had with your interference. Get out of here before I change my mind.”

With that Harry turned his back to the archangel, turning his attention and gaze to the boy behind him.

Gabriel muttered angrily, jealously, “All for an odious creature?” before ascending the sky and disappearing in a bright arch of light.

Harry knelt on one knee, his smile turning kind, if somewhat playful as he regarded the remarkable specimen before him.

Wide green eyes stared at him, a plush mouth agape.

“Now, how about we see to your wound, little one,” he murmured, picking up the incubi’s ankle gently and concentrating his Chaos into Grace and healing the poisoned wound.

“Y- _You’re_ the Great Leviathan-” the boy whispered harshly, brow pinched in something similar to consternation.

“Actually,” Harry began, putting the final touches into merging tendons together. “My full title would be more along the lines of _The Great One_ , _Lord Commander of those Damned to the Mortal Plane, Enslaver of the Condemned, Keeper of the Impure, the Unhallowed Leviathan_ ,” he finished, with a small smile, eyes flitting back up to catch the incubi’s gaze. “At your service, sweet boy.”

“But _you’re_ the Leviath-” said sweet boy choked out, apparently not have heard one bit of Harry’s preening speech.

“When in battle, I suppose. Though many also call me Galahad,” he paused considering. “And my closest confidants call me Harry.”

“W-what?” the young man sputtered, eyes flitting around Harry’s person confusedly.

“Yes, I know,” Harry sighed, aggrieved by it all. “One does accumulate a multitude of names over eons of existence. I’ve also been called the Harbinger of Death, Satan…”

“Wait, you mean you’re actually the Devi-“

“Good Grace, no. While I have the utmost respect for the Devil- and God, I suppose-, I can say sincerely that I’ve never desired the Creator’s nor the Unmaker’s responsibilities.” He paused, considering. “Not _even_ if taking on either of those mantels were my only chances at death. Nasty, boring business those.”

The young man continued to stare, mouth still hanging open and brow creased into a frowny expression.

Harry let him have his fill; his presence, he’d been told, could be rather overwhelming to entities from Pit dwellers to humans to demons to angels. So he remained quiet and smiled, chest puffing out as he rose to his full height now that he’d finished healing the incubi’s injury.

The boy caught himself the next moment, blushing prettily as he averted his gaze, even going so far as to bow low as he begged pardon. “Sorry, I just... I ain’t never thought I’d run into the Leviathan while wandering down here. And uh, no offense, bruv, but you ain’t exactly what I was expectin’.”

Harry’s smile widened, brow lifting in inquiry.

 

 

**The end of Harry’s intro**

 

* * *

  **The Leviathan, King of Demons** (Harry's Theme) - "[He Who Brings the Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dxNwZ0_xvP8)" from the _Archangel_ album by Two Steps From Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Pekel (Dutch) for pickle.
> 
> Thanks to Elletromil, moonflowers and unwinthehart on tumblr/AO3 for the inspiration and words of encouragement!
> 
> Unbeta'd; I apologize for any abrupt jumps, etc.
> 
> Lastly, here's Harry's "full" [demonic face](https://68.media.tumblr.com/cd66d6aacb4eb209faeeed75a01dd642/tumblr_ol1s8yKxct1tgz07xo1_540.png).
> 
> edit 2/7: link now attached xD


End file.
